


First Contact

by Zeheal



Series: Fantasy Mafia Creepypasta! [6]
Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 23:39:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17032128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeheal/pseuds/Zeheal





	First Contact

It was a colder night, which made it the best time for this. It was starting to become winter as the leaves changed and fell off the trees. It was 3 am, one of the peak witching hours for those who pay attention to those kinds of thing. And right now, a person stood on the bridge edge looking down at a rushing river below them.

Puppet has been working on this sucker for weeks, almost a month actually. Poor son of a bitch was a college dropout. They had dreams to try and be a nurse, but cracked under the pressure and couldn’t recover. They turned to drink, making minimum wage flipping burgers. They unable to keep themselves and their addiction afloat for long, and sunk deeper into depression.

 _“If you jump, no one will suffer knowing you anymore.”_  Puppet whispered into their ear. He made it seem as if it was their own thoughts.  He continued,  _“It will all be over in an instant. You won’t feel a thing.”_

Little did they know that they weren’t alone on the bridge. A tall woman walked towards them, her heels clicking in rhythmically. One, two, three, pause. One, two, three, pause. No more, no less. She didn’t want to anger herself, not tonight. She approached them, her black mask glinting with the light from the moon overhead. Now, Imani wasn’t any psychic like her younger sister. She’s known for being aloof to the emotions of those she didn’t know, but even she could sense their depression and apathy. She pauses next to them, her long tight coiled hair being rustled by the breeze. She ran her long red painted nails over the railing separating her from their own demise. 

“Don’t do it.” Their head whipped towards her and they opened their mouth, intending to speak. Imani lifted her hand up shushing them and the authority that poured out of her. Stopping them from speaking along with her accented voice was a hidden talent.

“I’ve been there. And as you fall your survival instincts will set in and the last thing you think other than the pain will be about how you regret jumping. And that’s assuming you don’t survive. Either outcome of jumping is bad.” She moved so that her back was to the bubbling river and the scarred flesh of her back rested against the railing. A crop top and short skirt weren’t exactly appropriate for the weather, but she was on a mission. Being honest with herself about this, if she couldn’t talk to this person from killing themselves she could always slit their throat. Then she could carry on her way. She did have a reputation and a kill streak to maintain after all. Not even her momentary streak of empathy could stop that.

Puppet saw this woman move over to his prey. He wasn’t exactly happy that someone decided to come out in the middle of the night here. Always with the people who want to save others. Why the fuck did it matter if one person died? They had no friends, no family, no one to speak of. And yet everything seemed as if it was slipping from his grasp.

 _“She is lying. A stranger. How can a stranger know what you feel like?”_  Puppet urged to his prey. This was the meal he has been working on for so long. He was hungry, and this person was his next ticket. Imani fiddled with her hands, assessing how her nails looked awful as she spoke once more. Vanity was her sin after all. 

“One of my friends when I was, what, seventeen? Yeah, seventeen I do believe, killed herself on this very bridge. Her brother had died in a drive-by two weeks earlier. Death inspires death, dear. Somewhere someone will be gravely impacted by your death, as it is the way of this universe we live in.” With every word that fell from Imani’s silver tongue, the person became less determined to die. The woman seemed to deflect everything the voice in their head. She even said with a weird nonchalance tainting her words. Like she had done this before. Little could they see, during this conversation Imani had gotten in position to get the small throwing knife pressed against her hip. It is hidden by her favorite skirt. Much like the Puppeteer, Imani had a hunger. But hers was to feel the sensation of warm blood coating her hands. Her empathy was running out in sync with this person’s time left on this earth.

Puppet floated around the two individuals, seeing what this new woman had to offer to him. He studied her, watching her, knowing that she couldn’t see him. Perks of being a ghost, and he loved it. He couldn’t see what she was planning, but he noticed a small change in her stature. Her posture changed. What could it be?

 _“Attack her! She is going to kill you! You were already planning on it, so go down with a fight!”_  he sends into the person’s mind. The person looked between her and the bridge, then charged her. It didn’t matter how the person died, so long it was the suicide of some form he got his meal.

Imani’s eye widened as the person charged at her, and a look of boredom graced her features under her mask. Her reaction was swift and uncanny. She may be a sniper but under her finery and skin dipped in silk she was a weapon; a woman sculpted out of pure muscle. She lifted them up by their jugular, grinning under her mask as she watched them grab at her hands in desperation, choking as she slowly crushed their windpipe with her ever-tightening grip of death. She pressed them up against the railing, her pupil dilating in manic excitement. Her brows borrowed as she felt the person lean all their weight backward, forcing Imani to let go and they toppled over the railing. She watched them fall into the churning dark river below them. Imani cocked an eyebrow, looking down in indifference as she ran her nails over the rail rhythmically and she spoke a single word as she reviewed the scene in her mind. 

“Tragedy.”

Puppet looked this and started to clap while he was invisible, watching the person fall over the side of the bridge. Upon their end he could feel their energy flow into him, their life force giving him life. It did feed his hunger, the kind he needed for a long time trying to get this person to finish off. He moved behind Imani and floated down to stand behind her, his body starting to solidify.   
“Hardly a tragedy. Their death gives me life.” He says, dusting his hands along his sides. He then continues, “Thanks for the help with that then.”  
She flinched away from him, whirling around to face him. Nobody could be behind her. Not again. She took a deep breath when she saw the man’s glowing eyes and inhuman appearance. Her eye roamed his form, and her gaze cast a thousand little judgmental needles upon him. 

“… You’re welcome?” She crossed her arms over her chest, she was defensive and suspicious and a thousand different thoughts clouded her mind, trying to figure out what he was planning. This… Whatever being had appeared behind her with no warning whatsoever, she wasn’t about to be friendly. 

“Who are you?”

Puppet smiled and extended his arms, putting one over his heart and gives an impressive bow. Almost as if he was stage acting doing his final bow to the audience. When he stood back up, he puts his hands into the pockets of his jacket and leaned on his back leg more. Almost as if any sudden movements happen, he would be ready.

“I myself? I am The Puppeteer, the one and only. Now might I ask who are you? The look in your eye when you were going to crush the life out of that man was marvelous. So you, of course, are no longer a normal human. You are different, in a special way. And I like it.”

Her narcissism whispered in her ear, telling her that she liked him and that he was a friend while her anxiety and paranoia told her that he was a foe. She shook all thoughts out of her head, looking at this from a logical standpoint. He did not seem to be intent on attacking her, and she was sure that if he was he would have already done it. And if he tried anything she determined that she would slit his throat. If she could. She wasn’t sure about that. Either way, he didn’t seem like a threat to her. She gave a small curtsy, a smile on her face behind her mask. 

“I’m Imani. And I’m glad that you like me because I’m sure if you wanted you could kill me.”  She turned away from him, her heels clicking rhythmically as she walked away from him. One, two, three and then pause. One, two three and then pause. No more, no less. She looked over her shoulder and called out to him as she walked to her destination. 

“I hope to see you again, and  next time it will not be cold or on a bridge with a new corpse swimming in the river.” With that, the woman headed to go slit a businessman’s throat and feed the growing hunger inside of her.  
“I bid you adieu my fair lady! Enjoy yourself!” With that Puppet went back to being a ghost, unseen and unheard by the masses. Into the forest, he goes, deeper and deeper to find his way back to the Domain.


End file.
